


"If You Can Dream It, You Can Do It" Does Not Apply To Every Situation

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Background Shane Madej/Sara Rubin, Banter, Crab Facts, Edging, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Polyamory, Size Kink, Stretching, attempted fisting, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Shane's got very nice hands, doesn't he?





	"If You Can Dream It, You Can Do It" Does Not Apply To Every Situation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Shyan Scavenger Hunt! 
> 
> Blame @beethechange for that title, and also all the crabfax.

“Y’know,” Ryan said, “I think you’ve got the biggest hands I’ve ever seen.”

“There are people out there with bigger hands than I have,” said Shane, as he carefully picked through his salad. “Who puts anchovies in a salad in the first place?”

“It’s a Caesar salad,” said Ryan. “What do you think the dressing is made of?”

“... what, really?”

Shane looked so surprised that Ryan burst out laughing, because, well… how could he not?

He almost never got one over Shane, so when he did… might as well relish it.

“Really,” said Ryan. “What, you never knew?” 

“Did the Romans have anchovies?”

“Considering the fact that the Caesar salad was made by a dude from Mexico, I’d say that it doesn’t have to do with anything.”

“... what?”

“The Caesar salad. It was made by an Italian guy living in Mexico, which, according to my aunt, makes him an honorary Mexican, which, in turn, makes it officially a Mexican invention.”

“Oh,” said Shane. “Do they have anchovies in Italy?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “They have them in Mexico, too.” 

“So when I order an authentic Caesar salad….”

“You’re going to be picking out anchovies,” said Ryan.

“You think they’d at least debone them,” Shane grumbled, and he kept flicking the little bits of fish onto a napkin. 

His fingers were very long, tapering, with bulging knuckles.

The lines in his palms were deep, and his nails were narrow. 

They were also covered in anchovy bits, and Ryan was unsure as to whether that made them more appealing or less.

It wasn’t like he _disliked_ anchovies, per se, but… they weren’t really something that he found sexy. 

He licked his lips, leaning back into his seat.

Being sexy with Shane was a new development.

A _good_ development, to be sure, an absolutely excellent new development, but still.

Going from being absolutely straight to occasionally jerking off to his best friend to making out with said best friend to… well.

To what was possibly a date.

Maybe. 

“I’ll eat ‘em,” Ryan said, reaching out with his own hand, and okay, they were… a little smaller than Shane’s, but so much of Shane’s everything was… well, bigger than everything else.

“I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth, if you eat those,” Shane warned. 

Ryan blushed, just a bit, because… because Shane was talking about kissing him.

Talking about kissing him, right here, in public.

Well, as public as a small cafe at ten at night could be. 

But still.

Principle of the thing.

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Ryan said, and he swallowed down the anchovies, licking his lips.

He could appreciate the salty, fishy goodness of them. 

“Doesn’t the whole… bones thing bother you?”

Shane looked something between fascinated and unsettled.

Ryan shrugged.

“I just swallow ‘em down quick enough and then they’re gone,” he told Shane.

Shane raised an eyebrow, and then his expression got downright _dirty_ , in that special way of his.

“Is that so?”

“Yep,” Ryan said, and he leaned back into his seat, trying not to look too smug.

Literally everything tasted like anchovies. 

“Well,” said Shane. 

“Well?”

“Well.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m lost for what I’m going to say, so I’m just using filler words.” 

"Oh," said Ryan.

"Right," said Shane. "That's a perfect example."

Ryan snorted, and he licked the last of the anchovy juice off of his lips, then took a slug of his water.

Shane was meticulously wiping his fingers off, and Ryan was still staring at Shane's hands.

Fuck, but they were just so... _huge_.

"Can I help you with something?"

Shane's tone was mild, but Ryan was blushing anyway, as he took another slug of his water.

This was what they did, wasn't it?

They flustered each other, back and forth, and then they ended up holding Shane's fork again, and Shane was carefully eating his salad.

"What? Oh, uh, probably plenty of things. Lots of stuff. I always... appreciate help."

Shane raised an eyebrow, and then he smirked. 

It was a downright _saucy_ smirk. 

"Do you, now?" 

"You'd know," Ryan said. 

"The way you say that makes me feel like you're accusing me of something."

Ryan snickered.

"What, accusing you of knowing something?"

"There are many kinds of accusations," said Shane, and then he was picking his fork up again.

... Ryan wanted to suck on Shane's fingers. 

Right then and there, he wanted those long fingers in his mouth, the pad of Shane's finger against his tongue, the knuckles pressed against his palate.

... Ryan wanted those fingers in his ass, curling, up against his prostate, making him squirm and groan.

Oh god.

He was blushing hard enough that his ears were hot, and Shane was shooting him a quizzical look.

Shane was also resting his chin on his hand, which was... distracting.

Shane's fingers were resting on his cheekbone, and his he was idly drumming the fingers of his other hand on the tabletop.

Ryan's heart was beating very fast, and he was... well, his mind was going places.

"You turned me into a pervert, Shane," Ryan said.

Shane paused, looking confused.

"I don't know if I can argue with that or not," said Shane, "but what brought that on?"

"Because we're just... sitting here, and I'm thinking about things."

"What sort of things?"

Shane raised an eyebrow. 

His expression was... interested.

Lecherous.

"The kinds of things that you don't talk about in a public cafe," Ryan said, his eyes darting around.

There was a lady behind the counter, reading something on her phone, and various rattling noises could be heard from the kitchen, presumably as the chef did whatever chefs did. 

Unless it was a particularly industrious ghost.

Otherwise, the place was empty.

"Fair enough," was all Shane said, as he finished his salad. "But I think I'm ready to head off."

"You still want to come over?"

"You invited me," Shane said. "Why would I change my mind?"

"I dunno," said Ryan. "You said that you weren't going to kiss me until I brushed my teeth."

"That doesn't mean I'm not gonna kiss you again, _ever_ ," Shane said. "I just don't want any fishy aftertaste." 

Ryan opened his mouth... and then closed it.

"Any off color joke I make about that is going to be more off color than even I can put up with," he told Shane.

"Why do you mean, than even you can put up with? It's not like you make particularly gross jokes."

"Still," said Ryan, and he took a final bite of his sandwich, then stretched, arms over his head, back arching. 

He could feel Shane's eyes on him, roaming across his shoulders, up to his arms, then down to his chest.

Maybe he preened under it, a little bit, because... well.

There's a loveliness to being admired by someone who you, in turn, admire.

An idea was beginning to hatch in his head.

"Still?"

"Still."

And then he stood up, to go pay.

* * *

"So what was this filthy thing you were too embarrassed to say in an empty restaurant?"

Shane was driving, and Ryan was leaning back in the passenger seat, watching the scenery go by.

"I was thinking about your hands," Ryan said, because they were in private, and he was trying to get over his hangups.

Especially his sex related hangups.

"What about my hands?"

They stopped at a stop sign, and one of those hands was going to Ryan's inner thigh, squeezing it.

Shane's hand was big enough that his fingertips were against Ryan's inseam, even as his palm was pressed into the top of Ryan's thigh.

The sheer _size_ of Shane's hands was frankly almost... unsettling.

And okay, Ryan had felt those fingers in his ass before.

Well, two of those fingers at once.

Never more than that.

But now ideas were going through his head.

A specific sort of idea. 

"They're nice," said Ryan, and he cleared his throat, because he was blushing now. 

"Nice?" 

"Yeah," said Ryan, and he covered Shane's hand with his own, squeezing it.

Shane let go, to put both hands on the wheel. 

"Any other adjectives?"

"You sound like you're fishing," Ryan said. 

"You gave me the most milquetoast compliment you can give someone. It's practically an insult."

Ryan snorted.

He could tell that Shane was teasing, but still.

"I was thinking about your freakishly long fingers and how good they would feel in my ass," said Ryan, and he kept his tone as conversational as possible. "In my mouth too, obviously, but, y'know, you do amazing things with it."

"Oh my god, Ryan," said Shane, and his voice was faintly scandalized. "You can't just say that to a guy while he's driving!"

"You were complaining about my milquetoast compliments," Ryan said. "Anyway, I still can't believe that "milquetoast" is a real word."

"There's a... a spectrum, between "your hands are nice" and "I want your fingers in my ass," I'll have you know," said Shane.

"Why are you bothered by me saying that?"

Had he... tripped over some complicated thing about Shane that he didn't know about?

Shit.

"I'm _driving_ ," Shane said. "I can't just hear that stuff and then be able to pay attention."

"You wanna get out of the car and switch? We can pull out, I'll drive, you can sit in the passenger seat...."

Ryan was teasing, for the most part.

"No, see, the problem with that is if we pull over, I'm just gonna wanna bend you over the hood of the car and fuck you."

"What, right in the street?"

"Before God and country," said Shane, and he put one of those ridiculously huge hands to his chest. 

"... I'd have to adjust the seat to fit anyway, since you pushed the seat all the way back." 

“Oh my god,” said Shane, and he was laughing. “Fuck.”

Ryan leaned back into his seat, and he glanced down.

Well… Shane was very much into the idea.

He had a boner - a pretty noticeable boner, pressing against the zipper of his stupid chinos, which were red today. 

If Ryan wasn’t quite as terrified of dying in a car crash, he would have _totally_ reached out and given Shane’s cock a squeeze, but… well, death.

He was against death.

He’d rather not be dead.

“Remember that thing in American Gods?”

“Which thing in American Gods?”

“The guy who got his dick bitten off,” said Ryan.

“... was that in the book?” 

“Just in the television show, I think.”

“I gotta ask, why are you bringing up dick biting off, when we’ve got amorous activities planned.”

“American Gods turns you off?”

“Talking about dicks being bitten off turns me off,” said Shane. “So how’d you go down that road?”

“It’s a long, convoluted series of thoughts,” said Ryan. 

“Enlighten me,” said Shane, as he turned on his turn signal.

“Well,” said Ryan, “I was thinking about road head, and then I was thinking about giving _you_ road head, and then I remembered that one bit in American Gods where the lady bit the guy’s dick off when their car crashed, and then I got to thinking about American Gods in general, and if you’d seen it or read it or whatever.”

“Right,” said Shane. “I read it, when I was in high school.” 

“Didja like it?”

“It was pretty good,” Shane said. “The bit with the vaginal vore kinda… stuck with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“You don’t remember that?”

“ _No_ ,” Ryan said, scandalized.

“Well,” said Shane, “you should read it again.”

“It’s a show now,” said Ryan. “I may watch it.”

“You do that,” said Shane, and they were pulling in to Ryan’s driveway. 

“So,” said Shane, “you still want me to come over?”

He always got like this - he got anxious about the idea of Ryan somehow changing his mind, or losing interest.

Even though Ryan had made a whole point about the fact that he wasn’t going to lose interest over the course of one goddamn evening, Shane was… anxious.

He’d apparently done the same thing with Sara, which had made her equally crazy.

“Yes, Shane,” Ryan said. “You can come over. Please come over. I thought I’d made it pretty clear that I’d like your big self in my apartment.”

“Just making sure,” Shane said, holding two hands out in some kind of supplication. 

Ryan rolled his eyes, and he leaned in to kiss Shane.

Only for Shane to back out.

“Your breath still smells like anchovies,” he told Ryan. “The sentiment is very much appreciated, but the anchovies not so much.”

Ryan snorted.

“I thought you wanted me, baby,” he said, drawing out the last word - _bay-beeee_.

Shane snorted, and he put his hand over Ryan’s mouth.

He kissed the back of his own hand, his nose pressed against Ryan’s cheek, his other hand on Ryan’s cheek.

“You are such a fucking jerk,” Ryan said, his mouth muffled.

Shane pulled his hand back, making a face.

“That feels weird,” he told Ryan, and he shook his hand out.

“Whose fault is that?”

“Yours, for eating those anchovies!”

Ryan snorted, and he got out of the car, heading towards his front door.

* * *

Ryan drank a glass of water, then brushed his teeth. 

And then he was in bed with Shane, straddling Shane’s lap, kissing Shane as deep as he could.

Shane, at least, wasn’t complaining - his hands were down the back of Ryan’s pants, squeezing the cheeks of Ryan’s ass, and Ryan’s hips were rolling forward, as he pulled back, pressing a kiss to Shane’s lips, his forehead against Shane’s, his breath coming in deep, gasping pants.

“Fuck,” Ryan said, and he was shaking, even as he clung to Shane’s shoulders. “God, you’re….”

“Mmm?”

Shane was propped up by pillows, and his mouth was making its way down Ryan’s neck - from the soft spot behind Ryan’s ear, to rasp against the stubble along his jaw, then lower, towards his Adam’s apple.

Ryan shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“Please,” Ryan said, and his voice broke. 

“Please what?”

Shane’s hands were kneading at Ryan’s ass, and _god_ , but they were big.

All of Shane was big - his cock felt huge, from this angle, and his legs seemed to go on for miles, nearly dangling off the end of the bed.

“I told you what I wanted in the car,” Ryan said, and his voice might have had a touch of a whine in it, but god, Shane’s long finger was doing… probing things.

If Shane was an alien, Ryan would have hopped right onto a UFO.

… wow, that was a random thought, and he grinned a bit in spite of himself, even as he kissed Shane again, long, wet kisses.

Shane pulled back, licking his lips, and god, even his tongue looked outsized this close.

Maybe Ryan was just gibbering in his head or something; maybe Ryan was going crazy. 

Who fucking cared?

“You want me to finger you? You want to… to feel me inside?”

Shane wasn’t always the best at dirty talk, but at least he tried.

“Yes,” Ryan panted. “Yes, please!”

“Please finger you? Please find that good spot, please make you cum?” 

Ryan shuddered, his cock jumping in his jeans.

“Yes, please,” Ryan mumbled, right into Shane’s neck, and his knees were digging into Shane’s sides.

Shane pulled back. 

“You gotta take your pants off first,” Shane said. “And I need the lube.”

“Right, right,” said Ryan. “Obviously.”

He cleared his throat. 

“That means you need to get off of me,” Shane said.

“Right,” said Ryan.

He still wasn’t moving. 

In fact, he was leaning in, and he was kissing Shane, pressing closer and closer, until they were breathing each other’s breath, and then Shane was pulling back, pushing Ryan onto the bed, and he was standing up. 

Ryan, vaguely discombobulated, lay flat on his back, looking over the curve of his belly.

His feet were dangling over the side of the bed. 

“What?”

“I told you,” said Shane, and then he was leaning over, beginning to unbutton Ryan’s pants, “If you want me to finger you, I need to be able to access your butt. Which I can’t do with your pants on.”

Shane grabbed Ryan’s waistband, pulled it down, taking Ryan’s boxers with it.

Ryan looked up, and there was a… _twist_ in his gut, at the way that Shane towered over him.

Ryan would have even called it a loom. 

He never could have imagined he would have found looming to be hot, but go figure.

Ryan got up on his elbows, tossing his shirt off and to the side, since… well, it felt weird to be in just a shirt. 

Almost dirtier, honestly. 

Shane’s hand was on Ryan’s inner thigh, squeezing it, and Ryan was shivering.

Then Shane was letting go, to grope around for the lube, which Ryan kept in his bedside drawer.

“There we go,” said Shane, his tone easy. “There… we… go….”

Shane was practically in a trance, his whole expression far off, and Ryan made eye contact, then flushed, because Shane was looking at… well, all of him. 

All of the bits of him he usually kept covered.

At least, on his lower body.

Shane took Ryan’s legs, and he put Ryan’s ankles on his shoulders, and this was… awkward, but fuck it.

“You ready to get a good finger blasting?”

Shane waggled his eyebrows, and he crouched down, his elbows on the bed, between Ryan’s spread thighs.

There was less looming now.

Pity.

Ryan snorted.

“Dude,” said Ryan, “that is, like, the least sexy thing you could ever say. Finger blast. Holy fuck.”

“I’m sure I could say less sexy things,” Shane said. 

“Could you?”

“Do you doubt my ability to make things unsexy?” 

Ryan snorted, as Shane’s finger slid behind his balls, and... now it was right there, deeper and deeper, curling perfectly, just where it was wanted. 

“Coconut crabs can live up to sixty years, and have lungs and gills, the filthy double dippers,” Shane said, his tone pleasant, as his glorious fingers did things that made Ryan see stars behind his eyes.

“... okay, you made it unsexy,” said Ryan, and he rolled his hips, beginning to pant. “You win. You can be the most unsexy. Least sexy. I don’t fuckin’ know, just… keep doing that, oh _fuck_ , Shane!” 

“They also have feathery mouths,” Shane said, his tone earnest. 

He was beginning to finger fuck Ryan in earnest, and it was making wet, slippery sounds, as he clenched and rolled his hips. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else about crabs,” Ryan said, but he was moaning, squirming.

Shane had turned the bedside lamp on at some point, and he was staring raptly as as his fingers slid in and out of Ryan.

There were two of them, and they were… stretching him open.

“Crabs can swim, as well as walk along the bottom of the ocean,” Shane said.

“Enough with the goddamn crab facts, I swear to fucking -”

“You swear to fucking? I seem like we’re doing that anyway,” said Shane, and he had his palm against Ryan’s taint, his fingers as deep as they would get.

His long, ridiculous fingers, god… the fingers were probably Ryan’s favorite part of Shane’s body, apart from his dick and his ass and his face and his legs and his…. Okay, he had a lot of favorites. 

“You’re so big,” Ryan said, his voice thick.

The pressure on his prostate was beginning to make his legs go numb, and his mouth fell open, as he threw his head back.

“Why thank you,” said Shane. “I’d make some joke about growing them myself, but I’m honestly running out of witty retorts.”

“God forbid you run out of witty retorts,” Ryan said, and then he was groaning, because a third finger was sliding inside as well, and he was reaching between his legs to squeeze his own cock. “I didn’t know you could… run out.”

Only for Shane to slap his hand away with the free hand.

“Nope,” he said. 

“Nope?”

Ryan gaped at him, and he was starting to shake.

“Let’s play a game called “how long can I edge you until you crack”? I can throw some crab facts in, if you’d like. To help.”

“What is it with you and the goddamn _crab facts_?!”

Ryan groaned, a long, drawn out sound, because Shane was doing… something with his fingers, and those goddamn knuckles of his were curling, pressing against all the delicate bits of Ryan’s insides, and Ryan’s cock was drooling all the way along his belly. 

“I think they’re neat,” said Shane. 

“Why are you edging me?”

“Because I’ve been thinking about it for almost two weeks, and am finally at a point where I have you quite literally right in front of me.”

Ryan couldn’t argue with that.

Ryan should have been jerking himself off, should have been doing… something, but he had his hands behind his head instead, tangling his fingers in his own hair, and he was going to cum, he was already so close, he was sobbing…..

And Shane was squeezing under the head of his cock, squeezing him hard enough that it hurt, but the urge to cum passed. 

His cock was twitching so hard, drooling down Shane’s fingers.

“So that’s a one,” Shane said.

“Were planning on turning this whole thing into… edgefest twenty whatever?”

“Whatever? Do you not remember what year it is, Ryan?”

Shane curled his fingers again, his palm right under Ryan’s balls, and holy fuck, Ryan was seeing stars. 

Ryan’s poor prostate was going to be bruised, if that was a thing that could happen. 

Was it a thing that could happen?

He’d have to ask.

At some point.

Ryan was going to make a witty retort, was going to say something smart, was going to use his blistering intellect on Shane.

So why did he instead say “can you add another finger?” 

Shane raised an eyebrow.

“Three?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “Another finger.”

“Well,” said Shane, “since you asked so nicely….”

And then his fingers were withdrawn, and there was more lube, and then… three fingers were inside of Ryan.

Three long, knobbly fingers, and Ryan hadn’t realized he could be stretched like this.

Oh, fuck.

“How are you feeling?”

“Full,” Ryan said, and he rolled his hips experimentally. 

His cock was beginning to twitch harder now, and it was leaking enough that there was a brief moment that he thought he had pissed himself.

“You’re so tight around me,” said Shane, and he sounded impressed. “I can feel you twitching.”

Ryan hadn’t known he’d enjoy this quite so much.

He was… all of him was pulled tight - he was one long nerve, his toes curling, sweat pouring off of him. 

“Fuck,” Shane said, “god, you’ve been thinking about this all day, huh?”

He was fucking Ryan with all three fingers, and when he curled his fingers, the knuckles bulging, and it was filling him even more.

Ryan’s eyes rolled back into his head.

“Did you know,” came Shane’s voice from the depths, “that crabs have a chitinous outer skeleton?”

“I hate you so much,” Ryan choked out.

“Does that mean stop?”

Shane made to withdraw his fingers, and Ryan dug his heels into Shane’s shoulders, hard enough that Shane might get bruised.

“I will fucking kill you, Shane,” Ryan bellowed to the very stars themselves, his head thrown back.

Shane was cackling like a friendly hyena, and his fingers were making wet, dirty noises. 

And then Shane’s mouth was on Ryan’s cock.

It wasn’t a proper blowjob - it was just Shane’s lips around Ryan’s cock, and Ryan was sobbing, trying to thrust into it, as the three fingers inside of him kept thrusting, and it was all a mess of drool and pre-cum and sweat and... fuck!

Shane pulled himself off of Ryan’s cock, and didn’t move his fingers, didn’t do anything.

A full minute ticked by - Ryan was staring at his bedside clock, as the number changed, and then… oh god, Shane was stroking him again, with renewed vigor.

“That was two,” Shane said, in his cheerful fucking voice.

Asshole.

Ryan wanted to call him an asshole, wanted to tell him to fuck off, wanted to… what did he want?

Shane’s thumb was rubbing little circles along Ryan’s taint, and god, but that was… intense, it was all intense.

“Another,” Ryan groaned.

“Another?”

“Another. Give me… give me your whole hand, fuck, Shane, why don’t you fuckin’ _fist_ me?”

“Well,” Shane said, “for one, it’s already a bit of a tight fit.”

Shane wriggled his fingers, just a bit, and Ryan _howled_. 

The fingers of his other hand were holding on to Ryan’s inner thigh, squeezing it. 

“C’mon, another, please, do it, do it, fucking….” 

“Ryan, I don’t want to end up in an emergency room with you on my hand like a boxing glove,” said Shane, his tone serious.

The absurdity of the situation hit Ryan in the face, and he was… laughing, laughing hard enough that he was squeezing around Shane’s fingers, and his cock was slapping against his belly.

“... did I break you?”

Shane looked genuinely worried, although he kept his hands in place, rubbing little circles with both thumbs.

“Boxing glove,” Ryan gasped out, his face turning red and his chest heaving. 

“Really?”

“Fucking _boxing glove_ ,” Ryan gasped.

He couldn’t stop laughing, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but lie there and cackle, as Shane’s fingers shifted inside of him, and then Shane’s hand was on his cock, and his moaning was mixing in with his laughing, and it was all just a big mess of noise and air that was barely coming out of his lungs, a few little gasps of air, and he was shaking.

“I’m going to try another finger, if you stop laughing,” said Shane. “Deal?”

“Gimme… gimme a minute,” Ryan said, and he was panting, still chuckling. 

He’d occasionally mumble “boxing glove” to himself, and he would be hit with another wave of cackling. 

And then he was breathing again, slowly, and Shane’s fingers were being withdrawn, and Shane… Shane was pouring lube across his hand, putting lube on his other hand too, which was confusing, until that hand was around Ryan’s cock, at which point… oh, okay, that made sense. 

That made toe curlingly, mind meltingly good sense.

Was Ryan even making sense anymore?

Did anything make sense?

Was there even a world?

How did he know that anything existed?

“... Shane,” Ryan choked out.

“Mmm?”

Ryan licked his lips. 

“I’m going existential,” he said. 

“I think, if you can think, that I’m not working hard enough.”

And then there were four fingertips pressing into Ryan’s ass, and Ryan was shuddering, as they carefully slid into him.

There were fingers against his prostate, or maybe knuckles, who could fucking tell, but they were all pressed together, and Ryan was completely still.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Ryan?”

“Mmm?”

“You dead?”

“No,” said Ryan.

“Okay, good,” said Shane, and then the fingers were deeper, and they were… they were so big, and then Ryan felt Shane’s thumb rubbing against the rim of his hole.

“So,” Shane said, in a conversational tone of voice, “I know absolutely nothing about fisting. I didn’t think to, y’know, look up proper fisting technique. I’ve seen videos and shit, but… y’know, there’s a way to it.”

“How hard can it be? It’s….”

“I again bring up the whole “boxing glove” thing,” said Shane.

Ryan looked at Shane’s face - the dark eyes, the red face, the way Shane was panting… fuck.

“Are you, like… enjoying yourself?”

“Oh yeah,” said Shane, and he curled his fingers, pressing them up against Ryan’s prostate, and Ryan’s cock twitched again, drooling even more pre-cum. 

It was practically dripping down Ryan’s sides at this point, and he was still shaking, trying to catch his breath. 

“... I can take another finger,” said Ryan. “I can take… I can take your thumb, I can take all of it, I _know_ I can.”

“Ryan,” said Shane, and he wriggled his fingers again, which made Ryan spasm like a landed fish, “”if you can dream it, you can do it” does not apply to every situation.” 

“I can totally do it!”

“It’s a tight fit, Ry,” said Shane, and his other lubed up hand was on Ryan’s cock, stroking it in a long, smooth motion.

Ryan sobbed, and then he paused.

Shane’s thumb was trying to slide in, and....

“Okay, no,” said Ryan. “Sorry, no, that, uh… that doesn’t work.”

“Didn’t think so,” said Shane. ‘Maybe next time, buddy.”

“That’s the… the ‘sorry ghosts don’t exist’ voice! Do _not_ use that voice on me when you’re fucking me, I swear to - oh _fuck_!”

Ryan howled like a goddamn beast, right to the heavens, and he thrashed on the bed, as Shane began to stroke him again, fucking him with all four fingers, thumb pressed against Ryan’s taint, and now he was taking no prisoners this time, it was the tips of his fingers against the underside of Ryan’s cock, and his palm against the head, and it was all just a mess of lube and pre and fullness, and... who even fucking knew anymore, this was all just….

Ryan came. 

It should have been a bigger verb than that, shouldn’t it?

He might have whited out for a few seconds, and his whole body was one edge as he arched off of the bed - he came so hard that he got himself between the nipples, which… holy fuck.

He clenched around the fingers in his ass, as Shane’s fingers pressed down on his prostate, and he was cumming enough that it really felt a bit like he’d pissed himself, and it just… kept happening, as he rode his orgasm, as hard as he could.

And then… he was done.

He was more than done - he was wrung out like a dishrag, sprawled out flat on his back, panting, still shaking.

Ryan didn’t know anything, except that he was sweaty and still tingling, and he was still getting the feeling back in his legs.

Would his ass ever go back to normal?

Shit.

He hadn’t thought of that.

“Shane?”

“Mm?”

Shane was leaning over him, and he was… unbuttoning his pants, and he was taking his own cock in hand, beginning to stroke it with the kind of desperation that Ryan typically associated with the early days of masturbation.

“You want some, uh… sme help there, buddy?”

“Can you even use your legs, Ry?”

“I don’t need my legs to give you a blowjob,” Ryan said, and he tried to sit himself up.

Then he flopped back. 

“You sure about that?”

“... you may have to, like, sit on my chest to do this.”

“Sit on your chest?”

“Yeah, like… sit with your dick in my face. Although maybe don’t smother me.”

“You’re asking for a lot, man,” said Shane, and then he was… kicking his pants off, and he was knee walking along Ryan’s body.

He was looming over Ryan again, and this was a proper loom, this was the kind of loom that made Ryan’s heart pound, even after all that fucking amazing fucking.

God, Shane was just… _bigger_ than him.

Full on bigger than him.

Even though Ryan could probably bench press Shane (well, bench press Shane if Shane, like, curled his body up so that there wouldn’t be too much overhang, but he was overthinking it at this point). 

And then Shane was putting his hands in Ryan’s hair, which was… okay, kind of gross, honestly, because one hand was covered in lube, and one hand was covered in things that weren’t _just_ lube, but he didn’t want to think about that.

He opened his mouth wider, and then Shane was leaning forward, and his cock was going down Ryan’s throat.

It was right down Ryan’s throat, and he gagged, beginning to slurp harder, and he was drooling down his chin, down his ears, and then he was shaking, even as he sucked, his hands on Shane’s hips, and Shane’s hips were rolling.

Ryan’s hands were on Shane’s hips, and then he was moving to Shane’s ass, as he sucked, as he bobbed his head, as he slurped and kept sucking.

Shane lasted for all of maybe a minute, and then he was cumming down Ryan’s throat, which was… disgusting, but it was worth it, because fuck, but Shane was just making delicious noise, it was all delicious, it was just this… mess of arousal, this was nothing but a mess of everything, as cum dripped out of his mouth, mixed with drool, as Shane flopped down next to him, awkwardly.

“Dude,” said Shane, and then he shuddered, a full bodied groan. 

“I didn’t know you could dude,” said Ryan. 

“Well,” said Shane, “did you know that crabs have a chitinous exoskeleton?”

“... I’m going to get up and take a shower,” Ryan said, and he stood up carefully, his legs still shaking, and he staggered towards the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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